


haunted (if i'm haunting you, you must be haunting me)

by tyrantsandcreampuffs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Darcy being the best bro, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Post-Thor: The Dark World, Stripper!Loki, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, and Jane struggling with her thirst, because why the hell not, eventually there will be
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:27:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrantsandcreampuffs/pseuds/tyrantsandcreampuffs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jane never thought she would end up in this part of London – but then again, this wouldn't exactly be the first time she'd be discovering something she's not meant to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ghost

Jane never thought she would ever end up in this part of London – and that was already considering the fact that she had willingly walked into an abandoned building that turned out to house the ancient Aether, then flew through galaxies with an Einstein-Rosen bridge and ended up in a different realm and travelled back to Earth to defeat a dark elf from another realm who was threatening to destroy the entire universe. When put in that way, it sounded so farfetched and impossible – but she’d been working with exactly that for most of her life, so really it didn’t bother her as much as it should. But even with what could literally be considered the journey of a lifetime, Jane still didn’t see herself as an adventurous sort. She was more of a homebody – choosing to spend the night curled in her comforter with a book rather than partying at the nearest club with the rest of society. Or at least that’s what Darcy’s idea of a great night out was.

“It’s just one night!” Darcy said, continuing to drag her by the sleeve of her coat through the cobbled streets of Soho. The rain had stopped mid-afternoon but the road mostly remained wet and slippery, so Jane was still having a hard time navigating with her friend because the heels Darcy had insisted she wear wasn’t at all sensible for this terrain. “It’s your birthday, Jane! Did you think I was going to let you spend the night sulking in your room, wishing that Thor somehow knew what day it was?”

“Darcy…”

“No, listen to me, Jane!” Darcy stopped in front of a two-story building with just one rather unassuming sign hanging outside its entrance – yet somehow the line for it went past the other establishments beside it. Jane was afraid of the commotion that could possibly start with Darcy’s loud scolding, but the ladies in the queue didn’t bother with the two of them; instead, they were looking over the shoulders of those in front of them, probably gauging if they could reach the entry cut-off or something. “He did this to you before. Remember New Mexico? Remember those two years you spent pining for him after he had left? Well, it’s been another _year_. He left London in rubbles to attend to his princely duties in Asgard and the fact of the matter is that you’re not as important to him as he is to you. If you were, then he’d be _here_.”

Jane took a deep breath. Of course she knew that she was insignificant. She’d long resigned to that fact ever since she took on studying the cosmos. But she also knew that her insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe was a different case to her insignificance to the prince of Asgard. The former was a supposed inevitability; the latter was a choice. And Thor hadn’t chosen her.

“I know, I know,” Jane answered, although reluctantly. “But really, Darcy? You brought me to…”

“To the best night of your life.” Darcy had a wolfish grin on her face which could only mean trouble. She latched onto Jane’s hand and pulled her to the doorway. Darcy was still smiling as she took out her phone from her pocket and flashed the screen at the bouncer. “You’ll thank me for this later, I swear.”

The bouncer nodded at whatever Darcy had shown him and let them through. Jane turned around and saw that all the ladies in the queue were protesting at their entry, but Darcy tugged on her arm again. Darcy was giddy as they entered the dark corridor while Jane felt absolutely lost. She had no clue as to what Darcy had just done or what establishment they had just entered, but she felt something akin to dread in her stomach as they marched forward. It was the same feeling she had felt when her device had led them to that abandoned building – like she was about to discover something that she wasn’t prepared for.

“Oh God,” Jane muttered as they stepped past a curtain and saw the inside of the establishment. There were about twenty tables and couches scattered the dimly lit area. At the center of it all was a podium connected to a runway and then at the other end of the room was a stage. The main spotlights weren’t on, but there were already two male performers grinding on poles situated near the tables and the ladies at the tables near them were eating their act up with delighted smiles. The men were wearing masks which covered half of their face – though Jane couldn’t see much in the darkness, she could tell that the masks had details on them: little jewels that glimmered whenever the light shone their way. The deep bass of the music playing reverberated around the entire room and Jane felt her heart pounding in her ears with every beat. She could feel her face heating up – the only consolation was that Darcy couldn’t see her flushed cheeks. “This is a male revue.”

“Surprise!” Darcy exclaimed and dragged her to a couch with a good view of the center podium. They sat down as a server came to their table and gave them two shots of this blue substance Jane wasn’t sure she’d enjoy consuming – but at least the waiter was _clothed_.  “You’re almost thirty and I know you’ve never been to one of these before, so I took it upon myself to pop your stripper cherry before you become an old maid and hit cougar status. You’re welcome.”

“Darcy!” Jane groaned, digging her face into her hands. “This is indecent!”

“You dated a literal _god_ with muscles the size of the moon and _now_ you’re being a prude?”

Jane opened her mouth to argue that Thor’s muscles weren’t anywhere the size of the moon, but then she realized that was a moot point.  Darcy was right in a way – Thor was definitely _ripped_ and Jane definitely appreciated his body very much. And it wasn’t like it was the first time she saw men naked, so she didn’t have much of an excuse to look away. In truth, it was the fact that _Darcy_ was the one who brought her here that was making her feel embarrassed.

“It’s just one night,” Darcy repeated, handing Jane the other shot glass. “Tomorrow you can go back to the lab to do more research or to the apartment to sulk some more about a god that doesn’t seem too keen on fulfilling his promises of coming back to Earth or Midgard or whatever. Seriously, no girl should endure that kind of shit from any guy – god or not. But for tonight, Jane, we are going to have some _fun_.”

“I’m not paying for anything?” Jane joked lightly, taking the glass from Darcy. It wasn’t that she thought she needed the drink, but rather she just wanted Darcy to stop mentioning the god of thunder.

“It’s all my treat.” Darcy clinked their glasses together. “Cheers!”

After letting the burning sensation in her throat pass, Jane coughed and shook her head. She still couldn’t believe that she was actually inside an establishment on a red-light district, of all places. Darcy seemed to like the drink so much that she called for the waiter and ordered another round. Jane was no stranger to Darcy’s tales of college misadventures – in fact she was glad to have Darcy as a friend; Darcy’s stories made her vicariously live out the missed-out fun of her own university days.

“How did you even get us in here?” Jane asked her dark-haired friend. “There were probably a hundred people in the queue outside. Maybe even more.”

“I have my ways,” Darcy said with a wink. “The line’s long because this is the best place for ladies’ entertainment. It’s like, a three Michelin star restaurant; except the food’s the guys stripping for us.”

“Right.”

As soon as Jane spoke, a hoard of ladies rushed into the room and found seats for themselves. Jane recognized some of the faces she saw from the line outside. It was a small consolation that she wasn’t the oldest woman inside – there was a small party of five women who looked above fifty years old. Aside from that group, all of the other women looked to be in their late twenties to early thirties. The fact that she wasn’t the only one in her age range who wanted to find some entertainment of this variety comforted Jane somewhat.

“Wait,” Jane spoke again, this time louder as the other ladies chatter filled the room, “Aren’t you still dating Ian? You have a boyfriend!”

 “And so? I can have fun and be loyal at the same time.” Darcy shrugged before taking another shot. “It’s not like I’m going to cheat on him with one of these strippers – now _men_ , men do that. Just think of it this way, Jane: this is more like a museum – we’re just here to appreciate the hunky bods of these men.”

Jane could only shake her head as she couldn’t ever wrap her mind around the thought process of her intern cum friend. Though, Darcy was right with her analogy: they were merely spectators. Another man came out onto the stage – and like the first two, he was also wearing a mask of sorts – and the spotlight turned on and focused on his figure. The women began hooting as the background music faded and Jane recognized the static of a microphone in its place.

“Ladies!” The man called out; the women whooped. “Are y’all ready for tonight’s show?”

If it was possible for the screams to get louder, they did. Jane cringed but still kept on a small smile on her lips for Darcy. She had to admit now that she was curious as to what the whole shebang was about. If this was the reaction of the ladies and they were all her peers, then this was all normal, wasn’t it? Jane decided she could use a bit of normal after everything with the Norse god.

“Well, who did you ladies come here for: Lyon? Austin?” As the man called on names Jane eventually recognized to be cities around the world, Jane took another drink of that weird mix Darcy was enjoying so much. Each name elicited a scream from different groups in the crowd, signifying that they’ve been here before – Darcy had shrieked once or twice during the rollcall, too, having loosened up with alcohol in her system. Jane figured it would do her well to just relax and enjoy, as Darcy recommended. “Or maybe y’all came here for Lucca?” The shrieks intensified once more, making Jane curious as to who that last act was. “Well we’ll be seeing him and many more later on tonight. But for now, here’s our favorite boy toy, Troy!”

The man made his way off the stage and a mist enveloped the center area, hiding the elevated platforms from the view of the audience. The music began to pick up once more and as the haze cleared, a different man took up the stage. He was wearing some costume of armor that showed off the tone in his arms and legs. The man – named Troy – was moving his body with the music, flexing his muscles all the while. It was almost hilarious because his outfit reminded Jane of Thor – except that the god would never be caught dancing like this. Troy pulled off the cape on his back and threw it to the crowd. The ladies squealed some more and Jane couldn’t do much to stifle the giggle coming out of her own mouth.

“This is fun, isn’t it?” Darcy elbowed her while laughing. “The other acts aren’t as goofy as this. Troy opens because it’s all laughs; lets the crowd loosen up. But the ones that follow – let me warn you now, Jane: ladies literally get knocked out.”

Jane nodded dumbly, choosing to watch instead of attempt conversation – she wasn’t sure what she’d end up saying because practically naked men gyrating seemed to turn off some switch in her brain that allowed her thoughts to process properly. That, and she’d consumed a decent amount of alcohol. As the night went on, Jane saw at least three women faint – just as Darcy had said they would. Jane couldn’t really blame them; the other acts did become intense, even when viewed from a good distance – some ladies were so riled up that they were standing right beside the podium, reaching out at the performers with banknotes in their hands as the dancers grinded their crotches directly into the faces of the screaming women. It was interesting to observe how wild the women became – but Jane gave up on treating this as a form of data collection about four acts and five shots ago and began cheering with the rest of the crowd.

It was in the middle of another act – a stripper named Sydney who immediately came out with a glittery thong – that Jane remembered something at the back of her mind.

“Hey, Darcy,” her words slurred a bit, but she coughed and corrected herself, “Why do the guys wear masks?”

“It’s their gig here. Didn’t you see the name outside?”

“No, I was too busy panicking about being in the middle of the sex-capital of London to notice much of anything else.”

“ _Masquer_. Like, there’s an essence of mystery. Adds to the thrill of it.” Darcy continued, “And I guess it’s a way of protecting their identities. I don’t think it’s nice to be recognized on the streets as the guy who humped the faces of ten girls last night.”

“Right, right.”

When the last act ended, the host came back on stage. The music lowered in volume as his voice met the microphone.

“How y’all ladies enjoying the show?” Just like earlier, his question was answered by shrill shrieks. The host laughed and waited for the audience to shush before continuing, “Well, we’re down to our last act and he’s probably the one half of you came here for. How do you ladies feel about that?” The crowd cried again, making the host chuckle. “But you won’t leave disappointed, ladies. Lucca’s never left y’all hanging, has he?”

While the rest of the crowd was howling madly, Jane and Darcy were holding their final – or so Darcy promised – shot glasses. When they replaced them back on the table, Jane was sure that Darcy had just overstepped her sober boundary.

“Happy birthday, Jane!” Darcy’s voice somehow managed to be a decibel louder than the rest of the audience as she stood and began doing some form of dance. “Happy _fucking_ birthday!”

“Did I hear someone’s celebrating their birthday today?”

The host looked out to the crowd and pointed to Darcy. Jane felt her cheeks heat up in mortification for her friend, and she tried to reach out to Darcy by her sleeve and yank her back down to her seat but Darcy managed to tug herself free from Jane’s grasp.

“Here, here!” Darcy waved her hand above her head. “Jane’s celebrating her birthday!”

It only took a second for the spotlight to illuminate their area and Jane had to blink multiple times for her eyes to adjust to the sudden flood of light. She saw that Darcy was grinning and that the other ladies were mildly irritated at the distraction from the program. Meanwhile the host looked cheekily at her, as if sizing her up from afar. Jane wished she could sink into the leather couch or run away, but she found that she couldn’t exactly move.

“Well,” the host picked up after the silent beat, “Why don’t we end your special day in the best way, _Jane_?”

Before Jane knew it, she was being escorted on stage by two more masked men in black thongs. Their grip on her arm was strong yet gentle and Jane didn’t know how to say no in this kind of situation – perhaps because she’d never been in this kind of situation at all.

“May I?” the host asked, pointing to her coat. Jane nodded and took it off, revealing the dress she wore underneath. It was a deep red, almost burgundy in color, and ended just above her knees – quite modest compared to what the other patrons were wearing. The host handed it to one of the escorts for safekeeping while the other man that brought her to the stage brought out a chair. The host made her sit down and Jane complied, the lights glaring down on their figures while on-stage. “Now, Jane, before anything else: how old are you?”

Jane panicked and looked out into the audience and sought out Darcy, but she was still beaming like the drunk that she was. Darcy had two thumbs put up and was screaming out slurred encouragements. Jane shook her head and focused on the host who was shoving the microphone in front of her face.

“Twenty-eight,” she answered, biting down on her lip nervously.

“Next question: do you have a boyfriend or husband who’ll come banging on our door if he finds out that you’re here?”

Jane shook her head to say no. Although, she did entertain the thought of Thor appearing right outside with the bi-frost, knocking out the bouncer and saving her from embarrassing herself on the stage – but Thor definitely wasn’t coming.

“Well, then consider yourself the luckiest girl in the world tonight!” The host winked at Jane before returning his attention to the rest of the crowd. “Y’all gonna be jealous of this gal, ladies – but, hey, that just means y’all should come back on your birthdays!” He snickered and signaled for the DJ to turn up the music once more. “Without further ado, ladies, give it up for Lucca!”

The lights dimmed as in the beginning of the show and smoke gusted out from the sides of the stage, making her see absolutely nothing but the wisps surrounding her. The din was louder than ever – or maybe it was because Jane’s ears were filled with enough noise from her erratic heartbeat.  Jane was more than flustered at this point – weren’t they supposed to be mere spectators? When did she become part of the show itself? And more importantly, how in all the nine realms did she even agree to this?

Jane was just about to rise from her seat and make a run for it when a hand pressed down on her shoulder and hot breath met the shell of her right ear.

“Just sit there and let me do this for you, _Jane_ ,” the voice commanded with a certain authority. The way the man spoke was enchanting, like velvet that Jane wished she could lay in if it only was tangible. There must have been some kind magic laced in his tone because Jane felt at ease after those few words – she didn’t even notice when the smoke cleared and the lights were upon her once more.

The music playing this time was heavier and paced slower, as though more erotic in nature. The man in front of her moved with a grace that the previous dancers didn’t have. While he didn’t have the same burly build that the other men had, the muscles in his physique was still defined enough for women to notice and fawn over. His actions were lithe – his body moved accordingly with every beat. His dance centered on her, as though she was the sun in his orbital system. Her eyes followed his figure as he stepped around her, his motions graceful all the while – which Jane knew wasn’t supposed to be, because how was a man stripping down to his underclothes supposed to be as elegant as this?

He started with the scarf around his neck – he stood in front of her and hung it on her shoulders, and then he bent his knees and hung onto the scarf without making her support any of his weight. While he was thrusting his hips into the air, he turned his head to the crowd and beckoned to them, prompting squeals. When he faced her again, his dark hair swished behind him. She couldn’t tell what the exact color was because the changing lights made it look deep blue and then dark violet the next second.

Next was his trench coat – he took his time untying the ribbon around his waist, teasing the ladies by biting the tie and showing off his teeth. When he was done, he twirled the coat over his head thrice before propelling it to the audience. The women made a spectacle of the discarded clothing and fought over it in the crowd.

Then, his dress shirt – he turned around and faced her again, moving to place himself on her lap. She felt herself bristling at his proximity, but he put his hands on her shoulders again. “Unbutton my shirt,” he ordered with the same entrancing voice. On his command, she reached for his torso and began to unfasten his top. She tried to pace herself, taking a breath each time a button gave way and he showed more of the skin underneath. His skin was white, but not deathly so; the lights hid just how pale he was. Up close, she saw that there were a few light scars which marred his chest, but there was make-up which concealed them. When she was finished with the last button, his hands dropped to hers and he placed them over his chest. Her fingers fanned naturally with interest at the stranger’s skin while he grinded their hips closer together. She had to admit that his motions were proving to be quite the distraction, but her eyes stayed attentively at the curious scar that ran right above his heart.

When he stood, she reluctantly found herself missing the contact. He walked down the runway with only his pants left to strip. She was pretty sure that he was going to rip them off in one movement – as was done in three previous acts – but he surprised her by pulling his pants slowly in front of the other ladies clamoring for his attention at the sides. When it was pooled at his legs, he kicked it off the stage and sauntered back to her. She was also sure that he would be wearing a thong like the rest of the guys and show off his toned gluteus maximus, but instead he was wearing boxer briefs. Somehow, she found this even more attractive because he didn’t look like a stripper at all.

What’s left were his shoes, socks, and that mask which covered half of his face. Once again, he settled on her lap and continued with his dance, moving along with the music. She tried to focus on something else, but the bright light didn’t do much to help her look elsewhere. His masked face was all that she could see – and painted on his lips were a manic grin that said that he was enjoying what he was doing. When she tried looking to meet his eyes, she found his gaze to be even more intense than the spotlights, so she had to look away.

Jane didn’t know how long it all lasted. She felt relief wash over her when she could recognize the fading beats of the ending song – until his lips were on hers and she tensed all over again. For the first few seconds, she didn’t know what to do. The audience around her were whistling, cheering her on despite wishing that they were in her place. When he bit down on her lower lip, she finally came to her senses and returned his ministrations. Her mouth opened up more and he pressed deeper into the kiss – he was making it clear to her that he was the one leading, dominating.

When he pulled away, she opened her eyes and what she saw filled her with enlightenment and horror. She saw past the mask obscuring his face and saw his eyes, how _green_ they were, how there was passion swimming at the depths. She knew those eyes – how they had been filled with mischief, contempt, and then regret and sorrow as he was _dying_.

 _Loki_.

It was highly improbable – _impossible_. He was dead. She was certain of it. She knew what she saw back in that barren realm: the monster had pierced right through him and he  _died_ ; his skin had turned gray and the light in his eyes faded as his brother held him, crying out in grief over the loss of him. If the injury hadn't killed him, then the storm that raged on through that desolate landscape should have. How was he  _here_?

Before she could call him out, the two escorts were at both her sides and practically carried her back to the seat beside Darcy. Her legs felt like they were going to give out on her any second now, so she really needed the support. Her heart was now pounding even harder than when she was on-stage. Jane felt her weight sink into the couch and she took a shuddered breath, looking back to the podium to catch another glimpse of the masked man she was positively sure to be Thor’s brother, but it was now unoccupied.

“Look at you!” Darcy threw herself at her friend and wrapped her arms around the perplexed physicist. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being up there, Jane, because let me tell you: that was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”

“Darcy…” Jane started, not knowing how to tell her friend that it was the supposedly _dead_ Loki who had been up there on the stage with her. Who she had found attractive as he stripped down _for_ her. Who _kissed_ her. “Oh, fuck.”

“I know, I know!” Darcy squealed, squeezing Jane even tighter. “You are totally welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially planned this to have multiple chapters, but I'm not sure if I should go on with it or just let this stand as a one-shot. While I have a rough outline of the story should it proceed, I don't know if I should at all, given that school's starting for me soon. So I guess it shall all depend on your reactions. Should I continue this or not? :-P


	2. on to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane goes out to search for answers and ends up with something more than she planned for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you haven’t guessed it by now, this is post-TDW with an AU ending which ignores the post-credit scene where Loki is alive and goes on to be Odin. Thank you for the kudos and the comments! I haven’t written down the whole story, so really I’m still hesitant about continuing this, but you guys seem to be enjoying it (maybe?) so I just might. :-)

Jane never thought she would end up in this part of London –  _again_. When they had returned home and Jane helped the inebriated Darcy into bed, Jane found that she couldn’t sleep. She had spent the entire night (or what remained of it) tossing and turning in bed and pacing the room. Whenever she did finally get some shut eye, she’d be rudely awakened by the haunting dreams of last night’s dance – and every time she woke, her skin would still be tingling from the sensations. It was a torturous cycle that lasted until mid-noon, where she gave up on trying to get a decent sleep and exited her room, only to find Darcy in the living room trying to nurse her hangover. After a rushed brunch of bagel and coffee, Jane took it upon herself to find answers of her own. She could spare a day to research something other than stars.

It didn’t take her long to find the small building Darcy brought her to the previous night. As Darcy had said, it was one of the best attractions in town – looking up directions on the internet was a task for a third grader. Now that it wasn’t so dark, she could see the signage that proclaimed the establishment to be  _La Revue de Masquer_. There was no bouncer guarding the big metal door, but Jane knew better than to attempt entry. All the neon lights that filled the streets were turned off in the day making everything appear rather normal; there was no hint of the rather shady business that occurs inside the buildings at night.

“Now what?” she said out loud to herself, her breath fogging with the cold air. Despite the sun hanging directly over her head, it was still too early in this part of London – only a few shops were open, and Jane wasn’t too fond of exploring their catalogs just to kill time. She traversed the street over and over again, passing Masquer thrice in hopes that something would have changed by the time she came back, but it remained closed each time.  _You really didn’t think this through, Jane_ , she scolded herself. And really, she hadn’t. It was completely possible that it  _wasn’t_  Loki at all and that she had just imagined it, that she was trying to keep out thoughts of one brother and ended up projecting the other on a random stripper.

Yep, she definitely was going mad. If Thor ever came back, he might find her institutionalized. Sure, she’d been accused of being insane by many of her peers, but the topic of fringe science was a different case and completely debatable. When it came to the Asgardians, however, she always wondered if it was all  _real_  – and the only proof she ever had was the destruction they left in their wake, what with the Destroyer, the tesseract and the Chitauri, the Convergence…

Well, now was a good time to leave as any. She might not have made proper sense of the mystery of Lucca’s true identity, but surely this was a waste of time. Loki had died as a hero – he had saved her, he had saved  _Thor_. Thinking that he was well and alive and running around the backstreets of London as some stripper was not only disrespectful, but it was tainting his memory as well. She could just imagine his sneer and condescension at the thought of his highness being reduced to an act in a male revue. Or maybe he’d enjoy it, being revered by the ladies – although for a completely different reason than he’d like.

To be honest, she didn’t get to know him well enough with their limited time together. Their first meeting had been full of prejudice – at least on her side – and the first thing she did when she saw him was slap his cheek. It had actually hurt her; his face felt like it was made of a high density plastic. She was sure that it didn’t hurt him at all, even when he recoiled from the contact. Then he had smiled and said that he  _liked_ her. She must have made enough of an impression for him to consider saving her just a few hours later – especially since he thought all mortals beneath him. She let out a long sigh this time. Despite all the havoc and chaos he caused, Loki seemed to have deserved a second chance. Jane remembered that she literally was a vessel of darkness, and she’d seen what true evil looked like as it expanded itself through the universe; Loki’s day of terror in New York paled in comparison.

And with the memory of him, those eyes came to mind – they filled her thoughts and haunted her again. Those green eyes with flecks of both light and dark, which were always so perceptive and calculating. He had kept his defenses up; always careful with how he presented himself, yet somehow you could look right into his eyes and tell exactly what emotion he was going through: the hurt at the distrust shown to him by his brother and his friends, the delight as he caused mischief; the regret…

Jane shook those thoughts out of her head. It wasn’t doing her any good to reminisce about the time she helped save the world and all; especially since she was thinking of  _Loki_ , of all people. He was dead – that was the end of it.

The block was completely devoid of any life just a few minutes ago, so seeing a figure just a few meters away from Jane made her jump. Down the street was a man in a plain dark shirt which clung to his torso like second skin and chinos that covered the length of his legs. His hair was a dark black that stood out against the whitewashed cobbled path and reached just below his ears, accentuating his light pallor. His nose was aquiline, his jawline and cheekbones statuesque. But it was his eyes – his green eyes that Jane could not mistake for anyone else’s.

“Loki,” she breathed out rather loudly – enough for the man to hear her. That was the God of Mischief in front of her, she was absolutely  _certain_. Despite his hair being cut short and the absurdity of the sight of him being in normal human clothes instead of his Asgardian attire, she was  _sure_  that it was Thor’s brother here in London – alive and well. “Oh God, it’s really you.”

He took the steps to close the distance between them. Jane knew she should really move, else he’d catch up to her and crush her dainty little skull with his bare hands, but she was stuck in place. She couldn’t take her eyes off of his lithe form moving towards her; couldn’t stop imagining his motions from last night. She relived their kiss over and over again in her mind and heat unconsciously pooled between her legs. It made her current stance far more uncomfortable than she’d like, but she was still completely paralyzed.

Jane could only imagine the look of terror on her own face; Loki, on the other hand, was very much amused – evident from the lopsided grin etched on his features.

“For a second there,” he started, his voice even and distinctly belonging to the supposedly dead god, “I almost didn’t recognize you. After all, it was dark last night – wasn’t it,  _Jane_?” When he spoke her name, it sent shudders down her spine, and she was only still standing up out of sheer willpower. She dared to meet his eyes, expecting to see the superciliousness which flashed on multiple screens when he attacked New York, but instead he looked more entertained than disdained at her presence. “If you’re here for an encore, you should have come at a later time.”

“Loki,” she repeated his name. It  _was_  him – at least she had the comfort of knowing that she wasn’t insane. There were a plethora of questions she wanted to ask him and she wasn’t sure where to start. How are you alive? Why are you here? How the hell did you end up becoming a burlesque dancer?

“What?” His smirk fell to a frown.  His eyebrows were scrunched together in an expression of confusion. “It’s  _Lucca_. I thought I did you a favor last night – the least you can do is get my name right.”

Now it was her turn to be confused. It was Loki standing in front of her, she was sure of it. His tall figure matched that of the other Asgardian prince and his voice and tone was unmistakably that of Thor’s brother. She would know her reluctant savior. There was no chance that this was someone else completely. But Loki  _was_  known for his lies and pranks. She’d never been on the receiving end of it, but surely he wouldn’t go as far to being a stripper in Soho just for laughs.

Jane believed there was a reason for everything – for why there was life, for why the stars were placed where they were. And just the same, there was a reason as to why Loki was here on earth. She did a quick run-through of the possible scenarios which gave answers and she narrowed it down to two: Loki was pulling an elaborate trick which involved her, perhaps to spite his brother in a way, or Loki ended up on earth after the Convergence with no recollection of his true identity and ended up having to work in Soho to get by. She wanted to believe that it was the former – that in any second he’d conjure his armor with his sorcery and they’d laugh it off; but with the cluelessness in his eyes as she mentioned the name  _Loki_  proved it to be the latter scenario, as hilariously tragic as it was.

“Why—” She stopped and cleared her throat. No matter the case, Thor had warned her that Loki was dangerous – but that was back in Asgard where he was a threat with his magic and tricks. Here, she didn’t know what he was capable of. (Other than dirty dancing, but that was a completely different story.) Either way, she knew she had to be as cautious as possible when dealing with him. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here,” he answered simply, unabashedly. “But you already knew that.”

“No, why are you  _here_?”

“I happen to live nearby.” He eyed her queerly, his brow raising, his eyes searching. He looked suspicious – and for good reason. If he truly had no idea of who he really was, then to him she was a  _stranger_. “What’s it to you,  _Jane_?”

Under his scrutinizing gaze, she blushed. The intensity of his eyes never wavered and she found herself faltering with her words. When she decided to go and seek him out, she surely hadn’t expected  _this_. Then again, she didn’t know what exactly she was expecting either. It was more of an impulse decision, a nagging sensation tugging at her mind and telling her to find out what the hell was going on – and as such, she hadn’t really thought it through.

“I was on my way to a café a few blocks away for lunch,” he began talking and she couldn’t miss how there was something ingrained in his intonation. It wasn’t so much haughty as it was  _royal_. It wasn’t like Thor’s pompous Asgardian way of speaking – this Lucca spoke English like a normal Londoner. “I saw someone standing in the middle of the road and thought how idiotic they looked, gaping at Masquer like that. I was going to tell them that it wasn’t going to open until after dark, but then it turned out to be  _you_.”

Okay. So he was remained to be arrogant, even in his ‘new’ self. Really, why was she surprised? He may have seduced her last night with his motions, but he surely wasn’t impressing her  _now_. As infuriated as he was making her, she couldn’t risk letting him get away by exploding on him. This was Loki – and surely Thor would appreciate it if he knew that his brother was alive. That, and she felt like she owed Loki as much for saving her life.

She took a few calming breaths and she felt better and more prepared to converse by the fifth exhale.

“ _Lucca_ ,” she started, trying to put on a smile despite her conflicting feelings. “I actually came here looking for you.”

He snorted. “I’m not surprised. You women always come for me.”

Again, another deep breath. He was just as infuriating as his brother said he could be.

“You just…reminded me of someone I knew from before,” she said slowly, unsure. “Is your name really Lucca?”

He nodded, his black hair swishing with the wind, then asked, “Is your name really Jane?”

She bobbed her head in response. The silence that ensued afterwards could only be defined by  _awkward_ ; it was thick enough for her to hack through with a knife. She was still trying to find sense in his presence. Meanwhile, he was trying to figure out why he hadn’t already left. Outside of his job, he never interacted with patrons of Masquer – it was rare enough for someone to identify him, but for him to acknowledge it like he just had with her, that was a singularity.

But if he was being honest to himself, he was attracted to her in a way; her being intrigued him from the moment she was forced onto the stage. She had both squirmed away and writhed beneath him and he had felt her eyes on him the entire duration of his little performance. He had felt her observe him and she learned to appreciate his movements for the art that it was. She was… _different_. It was not only that – he’d actually  _thought_  of her afterwards. He preferred to have his work and personal business separate, but she had been on his mind when he woke up and he had been compelled to seek her out in the way she had  earlier confessed to wanting to find him – but of course he’d never admit to that. There was a familiarity to her that he couldn’t place, that drew him in. Out of all of London, she  _felt_  different.

As they both struggled to find words to pursue conversation, the sky above them darkened; the light blue transitioning to bleak gray as heavy clouds rolled in to cover the sun. Combined with the emptiness of the area, the change in atmosphere gave an eerie effect that had Jane stepping back and looking up hopefully at the heavens above.

“Heimdall?” she called out, thinking wishfully that the sudden drop in temperature was from an Einstein-Rosen bridge opening up nearby. She wasn’t sure if he’d answer to her as she wasn’t Aesir, but if he just  _saw_  that Loki was here, then surely he’d respond in some way.

After standing for a full minute, Jane saw that the bi-frost never opened – and instead of Thor or his friends, rain fell down unto the earth. The first drops fell on her coat, and she expected to be drenched as the downpour picked up, but then a shade covered her and she turned around to see Loki holding up an umbrella over her head. She hadn’t noticed that it was on his person all this time.

“You’re quite peculiar, aren’t you, Jane?” He dropped the arrogance; in its place was a sincerity that she wished he would show more often, even if his words were degrading her. Just like the night before, his voice was entrancing her. “You fascinate me.” Then, he grinned again. “I like you.”

How he hadn’t reacted to her calling Heimdall proved that he really didn’t know that he wasn’t of this world. Instead of running away, he had thought her  _odd_. He probably assumed she was inane, too. But none of that mattered – what mattered was that she could keep an eye out for him while he was on earth. If not to repay him for saving her life, then for what remained of his family who still probably mourned him from realms away. Surely Thor would want her to do this for Loki.

When his words finally reached her ears, she could not refrain from reddening. He had said that he liked her in the same way he had done over a year ago. And she had been attracted to him, too – in the dark, when he was naked. So on second thought, maybe it was all just physical because she could not deny that he was beautiful. But that was all there was to it.

“Um,” she stammered, trying to step away from him when she’d gained consciousness of his proximity. Her face was directly in front of his chest as he held the umbrella over their heads. “ _Lucca_ —”

“Come on, I’m starving.” He took her by the hand and pulled her with him. They were now walking down the street, carefully avoiding stepping on the puddles. At least this time Jane’s shoes were more sensible, so catching up to him wasn’t as big a feat as last night with Darcy. That, and she had the incentive of not getting drenched from the rain. “The café is right this way.”


	3. on to me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane and Loki have coffee together and enjoy each other's company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't supposed to update so quickly, but I got excited. I'll be in Japan tomorrow until next week so I wouldn't have the time to write and upload then. So I guess here's a treat for you guys. I enjoyed writing their flirty exchange. I hope you guys like it!

If anyone had told her that she would be having coffee with Loki on a rainy weekday in London, she would have called them crazy. After New York, he was supposed to be a wanted man, wasn’t he? SHIELD must have picked up on his presence by now. She half-expected that men in black suits would come through the door and detain the man sitting in front of her; pull him into a big van and he’d disappear off the face of the earth –  just like when they had stolen all her data and instruments back in New Mexico – but nothing of that sort happened. After a full ten minutes, Loki was still sitting right across her, sipping his espresso like it was heaven-sent and the most ordinary task in the universe.

“You should close your mouth, Jane. You look like a fool, staring at me like that.” There was that condescension again. He had placed his mug back on the table between them and raised the brow over his right eye in a form of skepticism she’d seen before when he was interacting with Thor’s friends back in Asgard. It bothered her that she wasn’t supposed to be familiar with him at all, but she still _knew_ him.

She shook her head and muttered an insincere apology, looking away as she raised her own cup to her lips. She welcomed the bitter taste of coffee like a lifeline. She had to admit that the coffee in this place was good – definitely better than the one near her apartment which she frequented whenever Darcy didn’t restock on instant coffee.

When she refocused her attention on him, she found his eyes concentrated on her. He’d been observing her while she was completely aloof and she found herself blushing once more under his scrutiny. She really had to find a way to stop being flustered with him. At this point, she was supposed to be absolutely no one to him. She could justify her interest in him – he was the lost brother of her not-so-lover. (What was Thor to her, really? And what did she _really_ feel for Thor?) His intentions with her, however, was something she didn’t know.

“Stop that,” she ordered frumpily.

“Stop what?” His tone was more mocking than questioning.

“Looking at me.”

“You were doing the same to me just a few minutes ago.”

“No, I wasn’t.” When she realized that it was a lie, she shook her head. “No, no – yes. Okay, I was, but it was because you’re…”

“I am?” He leaned forward, his eyes twinkling as if he was a child and someone just handed him a bag full of candy. Jane wasn’t really surprised that Loki would be baiting her to speak of things that would end in her embarrassment. “Tell me, Jane, what _do_ you think of me?”

She took another deep breath, drawing patience. He was exasperating to talk to. She could just imagine how much restraint Thor must have had to not punch Loki in the face every time a word came out of his mouth.

“I think you’re interesting,” she answered directly. Her opinion of him stretched more than _interesting_ , but he didn’t know what she knew of him. At the attentive face he made, she expounded, “Given your profession and all. I’ve never been acquainted with a…” She stopped, her face flushing.

“You can say it, you know.” The edges of his lips twitched upwards. He had to admit, seeing her squirm was a sight he wasn’t going to tire of any time soon.  “ _Stripper_.”

Jane had to tear her gaze away and take a breather. That was not something she would ever imagine Loki saying – but she had to remind herself that this wasn’t exactly the Loki she previously briefly knew. And it wasn’t just that; there was the _way_ he said it. His voice was deep and guttural, completely _enamoring_ despite the taboo of the word. Jane was recognizing the attraction she was developing for Loki and while it wasn’t due to any deep connection they shared, it was still something too dangerous for her to be considering.

“I think you’re interesting, too, Jane,” he continued; she avoided his gaze. “You came to Masquer, looking for me at midday – when it was _closed_.”

“I didn’t know what I was thinking,” she defended herself, crossing her arms over her chest. Now she was looking at him again and she wished she could wipe the grin off his face.

“Clearly. But I was benevolent enough to humor you, a complete stranger. Now that you have my attention, I would like to know what your intentions are. Surely I deserve as much.”

Loki had a point. She was the one who sought him out and he had only chanced upon her (looking like a complete idiot, at that) and he’d been kind enough to shelter her from the rain and indulge her. She really had no idea what she was doing as she hadn’t planned this through. She only wanted to _see_ him again, to ascertain that it was truly Loki – and now that she had that knowledge, she wasn’t sure how to continue, especially considering that his memories of his old self were no longer there. She’d tried calling for Heimdall, but she’d gotten no response from the Asgardian guardian.

Jane didn’t like that she was completely alone in this, but she couldn’t exactly let this go either. It just wasn’t her to give up on chasing a lead of sorts – though to what end, was still to be determined. She was _attracted_ to Loki – Lucca, or whatever – but she _liked_ Thor, didn’t she?

“I intend to get to know you, Lucca.” And it wasn’t a lie. Her curiosity had to be sated, else this will only drive her up the wall. “I want to know _you_. Behind the mask, that persona you take when you’re on stage. I want to know who you really are.” She wanted to know Loki beyond the villain she’d been led to believe he was. And it wasn’t a lie. She wanted to know who the man who rescued her was, who had willingly given his life – or so they had thought – for her and his brother.

His eyes darkened, like a storm in itself, and his voice was low as he spoke, “You might not like what you’ll find in the end, _Jane_.”

There he was again, making her name sound like it wasn’t so plain; like it had been a foreign word that he’d marveled at, practicing rolling it along his tongue over and over again until he could pronounce it perfectly. Jane. Jane, Jane, _Jane_.

“Try me,” she dared, straightening her back and looking him straight in the eye. There was darkness in his soul – and despite being a new character with no recollection of his previous misdeeds, he seemed to unconsciously know it. But Jane wasn’t afraid of the dark, not when she knew that there was always going to be light somewhere. If she could take on the Aether, she was sure she could handle whatever Loki had in store.

“We’re absolute strangers. We could both go on with the rest of our lives not knowing each other.”

“And I _choose_ to know _you_.”

Loki propped himself back on the bench on his side of the booth they occupied. Her answer seemed to delight him because his eyes lit up once more.

“If that’s the case, then it’s only fair that I get to know you, too, _Jane_.”

She nodded. It was a fair trade. And while she knew he was more than capable of lying to her face, she’d have to risk it. This was her chance to get answers – and she never let opportunities pass her by.

“I’ll be honest if you will. Deal?”

“I swear it.”

“What’s your real name?” she started. “I noticed that everyone at Masquer used a city name as a pseudonym. Lucca can’t be your real name.”

“Your logic is flawed,” he answered, allowing a glint of mischievousness shine in his eyes. “And I’m sure you _love_ to be proven wrong. My name _is_ Lucca.”

 _No, your name is Loki_ , she wanted to correct him, but that wasn’t the answer to his current identity.

“Lucca _what_?”

“Lucca Green. I have all the documentation to prove it, if you want,” he supplied with a hearty chuckle. “And you?”

“Jane Foster,” she said mindlessly. That was another question added to her list: where did he get his IDs? And there were many corollaries: Who had supplied them? Who had given him his identity here on earth? “How long have you been in London?”

“For as long as I remember. When did you arrive from America?”

“How—” She was going to ask how he knew where she came from, but then she realized that her accent was easy to place, especially in another continent. “About two years ago. I was working on a project in Norway first, then I moved here afterwards.”

“That’s rather exciting. What do you do?”

“Currently, I’m researching more on the effects of the Converge—” She stopped mid-sentence. Loki wasn’t in London during the Convergence, so he supposedly didn’t have any knowledge of it as a human. But if he’d been in London ‘for as long as he can remember’, how long did that span, exactly? She coughed and continued, “Sorry, that’s too technical, um; put simply, I’m an astrophysicist. I study the stars and space and…” _I’m still trying to build a machine that will let interdimensional travel to your world possible, so that I can find my way back to your brother – that is assuming that he hasn’t forgotten about me yet._ “Stuff.”

“In my experience, it’s the women who dumb themselves down to impress a man,” Loki commented. “But you are impressive in your own right, Jane Foster. Compared to your academic conducts, you must think me dull and lowly, then?”

“No, no, you’re—” Supposedly one of the greatest sorcerers in the realms. The more scholarly prince of Asgard. Powerful enough to have attempted to conquer the world. _What was she supposed to say?_ “—impressive too?”

“Because I had danced around you in the dark?” At his retort, Jane had to fight back the creeping redness of her cheeks. She didn’t like recalling his motions as it reminded her of her restless sleep. Despite her chagrin, Loki seemed to be finding pleasure in reminding her of the occurrences of the previous night. “Did you enjoy it, Jane?” She looked away and fidgeted in her seat. “What was your favorite part? When I did away with my scarf? Though, the ladies always are fond of the part when I take off my trousers.” He was getting no response, so he prodded further, “It was the kiss, wasn’t it?”

At the mention of their contact, she snapped back her head to meet his eyes. “Lucca—”

“So it was!” Loki beamed at her. “Tell me, Jane, how you found my kiss: satisfactory or outstanding? I would like comments as well, if you have an opinion to share.”

She was sorely tempted to admit that it was in fact very much enjoyable, despite the pitiful circumstances; but it also didn’t sit well with her that the last person she had kissed before him was his very own brother and that it was more than a year since had passed since then.

“Now, now, Jane. I thought we were being honest with one another.”

“It was _fine_ ,” she snapped back. She needed _answers_. She was the one supposed to be asking questions; not at the end of his needless inquisition. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Because I find that I quite like it.”

“You quite like stripping?”

“What?” A look of incredulity passed his features briefly. “I presumed that you meant to ask me why I was teasing you.”

“No, no.” She groaned, pushing her cheek into her palm. “Why do you work there, at Masquer?”

“You should have just asked directly, my dear Jane.” He made a tutting motion, lifting his nose up in a display of regale. “Though I suppose the answer remains the same: because I find that I quite like it.”

“You quite like stripping,” she repeated, more purposefully this time. “Stripping.”

“It’s liberating,” he provided further, showing off that bright smile which was starting to look more and more creepy, even if it was flattering on him. “The pay isn’t so bad. I make a more than decent wage and virtually do no work.” He waggled his brows playfully – and Jane was finding it harder and harder to _not_ find anything attractive about his face. “And I get the benefit of having women swooning around me.”

“You really like your job.” It wasn’t that she didn’t believe it; it was just that she just realized that she’d never really given these things any thought. “You actually _enjoy_ it.”

“That’s debatable.” He shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant way. “At the end of the day, it’s just a job – a means to an end, a way to pay my dues.” He brought his mug back to his lips, downing the rest of his coffee in one gulp. “And I met you through Masquer, so surely that’s a plus side if not for me, then for you. You: fascinating, interesting, remarkable _Jane_.” His eyes seemed to have glazed over – Jane wanted to think it was the caffeine in his system; but there was something else in the way he looked at her. Like he was truly captivated. “You, Jane Foster, are by far the strangest person I’ve encountered here in London, and that in itself should be a reason for me to not bother with you. And yet I can’t deny that you are the closest thing that’s made me feel...”

“Feel what?” Jane wasn’t sure what she was expecting him to say, but she wanted to hear it anyway. Even if he’d told her a few details of his new identity, she didn’t think it was enough. There was still a greater mystery, a bigger question that needed to be answered: _why?_ Until she knew exactly what had happened – and until she found a way to get him back to Asgard – then she couldn’t possibly rest.

“You make me feel like I belong,” he finished, his features softening to an unguarded stance. This was something new to her. The hardened lines of his face relaxed as he gave her a small, _sincere_ smile. It was enough to send butterflies to her stomach and Jane could hear it in the back of her head: _oh no, no, no – you are not having a crush on Thor’s brother!_ “All this time I’ve spent here in London, I’ve thought myself a wandering ghost of sorts. But you, Jane, you are _familiar_ to me, even as a stranger. You’ve stood out in a way no one else has. I cannot explain it. The closest comparison I can think of is this: you are carrying with you a piece of a _home_ that I wish to keep for myself.”

Jane had not expected that – not that she actually expected him to say anything, but _still_. He had just admitted to _knowing_ her. So there _was_ more trace of Loki than she had initially thought. He must have had questions of his own; even with false memories in his head, he _knew_ he was more than this Lucca Green character. Jane wasn’t sure if what she felt was _pity_ at his loss of memory, but she felt that if this was Loki completely in control of his self, he wouldn’t take that from her.

“Jane, _please,_ shut your mouth. You look a fool, staring at me like you are now.” As realization dawned in his eyes, he traded his smile for a smug grin. “Well, we’ve come full circle then.”

“What do you mean I ‘feel’ familiar?”

“I mean exactly that.”

“That can’t be. You don’t know me.”

“And here I thought you wanted me to be honest.” He placed his lower lip between his teeth and waggled his brows at her. “In a way, I _do_ know you. Intimately. I know what to do to make you writhe in place, where to touch you to get a reaction. I know what you like, _Jane_.” His words were making her uncomfortable and yet she did not entirely resist. If it were anyone else harassing her, she’d be up on her feet and striking them with the force of her palm – but she was _enjoying_ this, the reminder of their little dalliance. This was the most thrilling thing to have happened to her in well over a year. “Tell me, would you like a private encore?” His voice dipped dangerously lower and lower with each word. “For you, Jane, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”

Jane could feel that this was very _, very_ wrong and rather inappropriate because she was supposed to be involved with his brother, of all people, but then Thor has been gone for over a year now. She had waited two years and then another. As Darcy had put it, no girl should endure that kind of shit from any guy – god or not. Darcy was trying to convince her to just be happy with someone more attainable, but then Loki or Lucca or whoever he claims to be now wasn’t exactly off-tangent from being a god himself. She didn’t even know if it was just his memory that was gone or if he had physiologically adapted to a more mortal frame.  It would seem that the gods or fate or whoever the hell controlled these things had a sick sense of humor when it came to her romantic entanglements because she just could not get a break, could she?

She downed the rest of her coffee to qualm the jittery feelings she was developing at the pit of her stomach. The warmth of it washed over her insides and she let out a relieved sigh afterwards. Her hands remained on the sides of her mug – at least, until Loki had taken them away and grasped them gently, almost lovingly, then the skittishness returned.

He laughed; she watched as he threw his head back and his dark hair rustled behind him. There was a childish lightheartedness in his mirth. He wasn’t at all being wary – rather, he had put down his defenses and allowed her a glimpse of him.  When he was done, he brought her hands up and placed his lips over her knuckles, kissing them with a form of reverence she was familiar with. He maintained eye contact with her all the while, but she was too flustered to do anything but stare back. Did all Asgardians do this, she wondered. Whenever Thor did these motions, she felt giddy and rather shallow in her attraction. With Loki, it was different; he was actually stirring something in her heart. It simultaneously frightened and exhilarated her.

“While this has been pleasant, I do have other matters to attend to.”

“As do I,” she agreed. She’d been so distracted by him that she had forgotten that she was supposed to be on a deadline for calculations and the development of her latest hypothesis regarding the gravitational side effects from the Convergence.

“Well then.” Loki moved to stand up. “It was nice getting to know you, Miss Foster.”

She had been too preoccupied with thinking, mentally organizing her findings of the afternoon that she hadn’t realized he was already halfway out of the door. She stumbled as she pursued him; her knee had hit the table and her coat got stuck in the fold of the seat she had occupied. By the time she exited the café, he was already a good distance away from her.

“Lucca!” she called out, and he turned around. “Will I see you again?”

He waved back at her and winked. “You know where to find me.”


	4. working nine-to-five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane returns to Masquer to seek Lucca out. When Darcy points something out, Jane only becomes more confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't bother with the prose of this story as much as my other works because I just want to write something fun without worrying if it's worthy of praise, so. I write this between assignments and studying for exams so I may be confused in some paragraphs. I apologize in advance. I don't have a beta, so if you spot errors, help me out? :)
> 
> AND I KNOW. FINALLY, AN UPDATE! I've been focusing on The Resistance and I forgot I already had this chapter written down. Sorry for the delay. I hope you guys enjoy!

It was well over a week before Jane conceded to the urge to see Loki again. She believed she had fought valiantly against her many impulses to go back to Masquer – some nights that she decided to go to sleep early to clear her thoughts, only ended in her wondering if he was dancing at the revue, entertaining a hundred other women as he did her on her birthday. Those nights usually ended uncomfortably; Jane giving in to yet another kind of desire. After a few sleepless nights and much dreaded deliberation in her head, Jane found herself on the street of his workplace for the third time in that month.

“ _Jane_.” Darcy’s voice was a welcome entry to the battle of voices already ongoing in her head. “Why are we here? Not that I mind, really, but I thought this was a one-off thing for your birthday.”

The astrophysicist took a breath in. “There’s someone I have to see.”

“Oh my God, it’s that guy who gave you that lap dance, isn’t it? What was his name again?”

“Lucca.”

“Lucca!” Darcy’s knowing smile could have lit up the rest of the street. “Yes, I remember now. The guy who got me in is a friend of the DJ and I remember him mentioning Lucca was like, the best newcomer they’ve had in years.” Then, her expression became slyer. “What’s this, Jane? You  _interested_?”

“No!” Jane was all too quick to defend herself. In truth, she  _was_  interested – but certainly not in the way Darcy was thinking. Darcy was thinking that Jane wanted to go out on dates and maybe even get laid for once in—how many years had it been? Jane was almost sure that Loki, of all people, wasn’t going to take her out on a date. (Though, coffee with him was quite  _nice_.) Almost. And she wasn’t going to sleep with him—him being Thor’s brother aside, he was  _Loki_. “I saw him last week. We had coffee. That’s all.”

 “And now you’re here to ask him out on another date?” Darcy prodded, her eyebrows waggling before she pouted her lips. “Oh, I see. I’m here as your wingman because you think you’re going to screw this up.”

“There’s  _nothing_  to screw up.” Jane answered through gritted teeth. She hadn’t originally intended to bring Darcy along; it was more of a last-second impulse to have someone to give her support to face Loki again. “Really, I just have something to settle.”

“Oh!”

“Darcy, no—”

“You’re in love with a stripper!”

All Jane could do was glare before resigning to Darcy’s teasing. She shook her head, not letting her resolve falter any more than it already was. She admittedly didn’t have the best instincts for situations that supposedly screamed  _bad idea_ , but there was something different about the danger she could sense of her present environment. Not quite as desolate as Svartalfheim, but Loki was possibly deadlier than that realm if he’d wanted to act on his violent desires – New York was proof enough, wasn’t it?

“How do you expect to get in?” Darcy’s inquisition turned to a more serious topic – one which Jane hadn’t thought through fully yet again. “The pass I had was date-specific. I don’t think they’d let us in with that.”

 

“We’ll cross the bridge when we get there.”

“We’re already on the bridge, Jane.”

“I—” Jane huffed rather indignantly before letting out a deep breath. “I don’t know. Oh god, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Jane’s entire scientific career in a nutshell, everybody!” Darcy quipped. Then, she grabbed Jane by the wrist and pulled her to the entrance of the establishment where the bouncer-of-the-night was stationed. Like last time, there was a queue on the side of the road filled with ladies – and the occasional man – waiting for their chance to enter. Seeing their glares at being cut in line made Jane felt nervous, but she paid no mind to them as Darcy talked to the big guy at the door. “Hey! My name is Darcy Lewis; I go  _way back_  with the manager—”

“You and about twenty other girls here,” the man cut off, looking down at the two of them. “Get in the queue or get out of my sight.”

“ _Okay_ ,” Darcy said, smiling awkwardly as she adjusted her glasses. “Right, that was worth a shot. We’ll be on our way then.”

Darcy was tugging at her arm, but Jane held firm in her stance. She met the bouncer’s glare with her own. Jane had stared down gods and dark elves, she wasn’t going to let herself be intimidated by a man who looked like he didn’t take a shower before showing up to work.

“My name is Jane Foster,” she said, mentally crossing her fingers. “I’m here to see Lucca.”

His eyebrow shot up. “You don’t look like you could be a Jane Foster.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” She almost shrieked, had Darcy’s clenching hand around her wrist not reminded her that she was surrounded by others who could stand as witnesses to her losing her mind. “What’s your deal? Do you need me to show ID or something?”

“Lucca said you’d come around, but you don’t look pretty enough to be the bird he mentioned seeing,” the bouncer replied with a snicker of his own as he eyed Jane from head to toe. Jane blushed at the mention of Loki and her  _seeing_  each other because it was a far stretch from the truth. She was about to point it out when the man lifted the rope and pushed the door open behind him. “Enjoy your night, Miss Foster.”

Jane harrumphed in the man’s face and dragged Darcy inside. The dim corridor they entered was just the same as Jane remembered from their first visit. Unlike before, they weren’t let in earlier than others and so the music was already pulsing from the stage area. Jane could hear the cacophony of screams by the women and she flinched – it was a sore reminder of Loki’s chosen and apparently fully embraced profession as a Londoner. Before she could take another step forward and through the curtains that would lead to the revue itself, Darcy was pulling her back.

“Before we go in, I have to ask: is there something serious between you and stripper dude?”

“I told you, Darcy, it’s  _nothing_.”

“It’s not nothing if you’re going to his workplace where people have to buy tickets weeks in advance and he’s mentioned you to the freaking bouncer to let in on a whim!”

Darcy had a point. Darcy often made a point of having a point when Jane least expected it. Jane hadn’t anticipated her earlier gambit of mentioning her name to actually work, but it did – so what did that mean?

“Well, it’s something, but it’s not a something you’re thinking. I’m not  _in love with a stripper_ , and it’s not because of Thor and it’s also not because I think he’s below me because of what he chooses to do. It’s just –” Jane let out a shaky breath before continuing, “I really don’t know, Darcy. If you knew me at all then you’d know that I don’t have a plan for these kinds of situations.”

Darcy nodded understandingly after a few seconds of processing. “You’re hopeless, you know that, right?”

She didn’t need to be told of her very human shortcomings, but Jane accepted Darcy’s support nonetheless. Jane pushed the curtains aside and braced herself against the sudden flash of lights dancing across the room. While she thought herself prepared for the sight of male entertainers doing their thing, she still couldn’t stop herself from cringing when she saw the current performer grinding his crotch over the face of a woman that was tied up to a table of sorts.

“I don’t judge, but it’s so bad that it’s actually good,” Darcy commented, laughing. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get tired of seeing your reaction. If you’re going to be dating a stripper, I think you should at least be able to desensitize yourself first.”

Jane felt a shudder run down her spine. “That’s not going to happen.”

“It’s already happening,” Darcy answered with a shrug and a grin. “Does your name also have other perks like free drinks or access to a VIP lounge or something?”

There probably wasn’t, but Jane left Darcy to find out for herself as the intern cum best friend headed to the bar. It was hard to shake off old habits; Darcy had already informed her of the goings on in wild and rambunctious parties that apparently happened outside the academic part of university. Jane had been oblivious to it all in her days – not because she hadn’t been invited, but because she much preferred staying in the dorm to study in advance. And now, with everyone around her screaming and she had no alcohol in her system to make her slightly more ignorant of the fact of her whereabouts, Jane couldn’t help but think that old habits were really hard to shake off.

She walked to the far end of the room; on the same side of the entrance. This was the farthest from the podium and all the lights she could get. Jane reclined her back on the dark wall and took in her surroundings from a different perspective from the last time she had been here. This time, she was here willingly –  _more than_  willingly. She was here on a mission, though with the vaguest objective. Again, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to accomplish, but she had to do  _something_  and this was more than a start. Now that she was actually inside, there was no going back. Her mind told her to strive for answers, but there was something else tugging at her heartstrings that told her to see Loki – Lucca.

After the end of the act, when they untied the woman with the assistance of two other entertainers, the same man who had called her up on stage last week was back to act as emcee.

“Let’s give it up for Lyon, ladies!” The familiar howling commenced and Jane chuckled. Everyone was having a good time and she couldn’t begrudge anyone for needing to be entertained. She could remember being amused by the many acts as well – though she had been quite inebriated at the time. When the crowd settled, the host continued, “Now, now, now. Tonight we have a special treat for you ladies! We’ve been planning a new act for y’all ladies to enjoy. This is based on the survey forms we hand out upon exit of the less drunk parties.” Jane chuckled as she recalled the memory of one of the staff trying to shove a form in her face while she was busy making sure Darcy could still stand. The rest of the audience – probably regulars in this establishment – laughed along. “And now we’re granting your kinky prayers! Y’all heard of The Avengers, ladies?” While the crows raged on, her previous light mood faltered and Jane felt something drop in the pit of her stomach. “Well, here they are! Let’s welcome them on-stage! Come on out, boys!”

Oh, god.  _Oh god_. Jane didn’t know what to do. She’d frozen in place at the sheer absurdity of the idea. Then, she felt herself being swallowed up by the ground at the realization of the ludicrous notion. Two men came onto the ramp in a straight line. The first man to come out had his body covered in green body paint, entirely bare save for a purple thong that Jane could only suspect to have been stuffed by an entire roll of tissue paper. The next one was themed more patriotic to Jane’s country of origin. The mask over his head looked similar to the one Captain America wore. While his muscled chest was uncovered, the man had been wearing long pants that sparkled with glitter in its starred and striped patterns. Jane almost believed him to be decent, but when the man turned around, there had been nothing covering his bum.  _Oh god_. This was what the people here wanted to see, evident from their nonstop shrills and the notes that were flying around from hands that couldn’t stop waving and reaching out to touch the men on stage.

And then – and then, Jane felt like she could pass out right there at the corner of the main hall of Masquer.

Lucca had come up on stage and he was costumed as  _Thor_. The irony of it was far from lost with Jane, but she couldn’t even get past the fact that Lucca or Loki was dressed up in a sexualized caricature of a person he supposedly detested so. Even with a mask, Jane knew it was Loki. His dark hair was more rugged and wild than usual. His briefs were in a shining silver that reflected the light like it had little slices of mirrors glued onto it. His red cape was tied around his neck in a loose and carefree way, it sloshed to the side with every step until he eventually took it off and threw it to the crowd. Then, he picked up a prop on the side of the ramp, a plastic replica of  _Mjolnir_. It was ridiculous, that’s what it was.

She couldn’t help her cheeks from reddening as he swung the hammer about in a manner that suggested he’d had something to drink before coming on stage. Jane figured that would be the Loki in him that needed it. Lucca was doing  _something_  with the toy now – Jane didn’t know exactly what as she had looked away – but whatever his motions were, it was causing the ladies to scream even louder than before. Jane was curious, but she wasn’t  _that_ curious as to not know her limits.

Only when the music faded and the host came back up on stage did Jane look back. At least she now knew that he was still quite alive. While the next act was being announced, Darcy appeared at Jane’s side after almost half an hour since they entered.

“Hey!” Darcy slurred her greeting, reeking of vodka. “Did you see that?  _Did you see that_? Your not-boyfriend was dressed as your ex-not-boyfriend!”

“Yes, Darcy, I saw that.”

“Yeah; but no, did you see what he did with his Mew-Mew? Jane, that was—”

Jane promptly covered Darcy’s mouth with her hand before the younger woman could continue. She didn’t need to know the details of what she hadn’t witnessed; she had looked away for a reason. When Jane finally released her hold over Darcy’s lower face, her friend snorted.

“You’re such a prude,” she said with a shake of her head. “Anyway, I realized something while I was taking shots with this nice group of old ladies.”

“What?”

“I realized that you so totally have a type.”

“A type?” Jane has never liked the idea of having a type. Sure, Donald Blake and Thor were both towers of men and bulkier than the usual male, but that was all the similarities she could think of between her two ex-lovers. That, and their preference for their work over her, apparently. Jane didn’t even want to think of how Thor differed with Loki because the list would probably be longer than she could even put down herself. “I don’t have a type.”

“Uh, yeah you do. You totally have a thing for blonds.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I should have seen it earlier! I mean, I only saw Donald through pictures from his Facebook, but I think his hair could be light enough to be counted as blond. And Thor with all his golden righteousness is kind of hard to miss. But Lucca – I did not expect that at all! Three strikes and you’re out, Jane.”

 “What do you mean Lucca’s  _blond_?”

“I meant exactly that!” Darcy looked to Jane’s empty hand and frowned, her thin brows pressing together in a show of confusion. “You haven’t been drinking, have you?”

There was something wrong – so very very  _wrong_. Things weren’t adding up and Jane couldn’t grasp her head around the fact that Lucca’s hair wasn’t as dark as she perceived. Jane knew for a fact that Lucca had black hair. He had black hair when they first went to Masquer and he had black hair when they had coffee. He had black hair just  _now_  and Jane was sure as hell that she wasn’t seeing things. Loki’s hair was raven-colored, it was the second thing she had noticed after catching a glimpse of his eyes beneath the mask.

Jane felt a migraine coming on, so she pushed herself further into the wall and shut her eyes, zoning out of the lights and the sounds and the loudness of it all. All the questions as to  _why Loki was on earth as Lucca_  or  _how he doesn’t remember anything_  were piling up in her head. She was sure – so  _sure_ —that there was nothing different between Lucca and Loki’s visage. They looked exactly the same because they were  _the same person_. Lucca was not  _blond_.

Then, the thought hit her: was she the only one who could see him as he truly was? Was Loki casting an illusion of sorts to throw people off? She had wondered about it before, why no one was tracking him down with his distinct and striking features – anyone with eyes and half a brain could easily place his face to the name of the alien terrorist that almost levelled New York; but she hadn’t considered  _magic_  to be behind it.

When she opened her eyes, she hadn’t expected to see Loki staring directly at her.

“Is she okay?” He turned to Darcy with a frown on his lips that could only mean he was  _concerned_. That wasn’t something Jane wanted to see on him. When he looked back to her, his smile was jolting. “Jane Foster. You found your way back to Masquer.”

His hair was black. He was right there and his hair was  _black_. It was Loki – the same Loki she had met back in Asgard, all untrusting side-glances and secretive smiles. Or was it Lucca, who was all flirty grins and mesmerizing dances; who was supposedly  _blond_? Weren’t they the same person?

“Jane?”

The pounding in her head worsened with every call of her name. She took a step back and stumbled. Lucca, not quite as inebriated as Darcy, was quick to reach out for her and assist her as she righted herself – but it was all for naught. The closer he was to her, the more she couldn’t stop seeing the face that wasn’t supposed to belong. Concern flitted over his grey-green eyes, and the way he was looking at her reminded her of when they were back in Svartalfheim, when he had pushed her down to cover her from the blast of Thor’s power meeting the Aether; when he had checked on her to see if she was unharmed. No words had been spoken between them, but there was no mistaking the second Asgardian Prince’s anxiety then. She had been too afraid of dying to register Loki’s slight worry then, but there was nothing distracting her at the present moment from  _seeing_  how he  _cared_.

Loki did not care;  _Lucca_  did. And Jane was having such a hard time reconciling the fact that they were supposedly different people. She was a woman of science. She knew when empirical evidence presented in front of her was telling something to be true. When it came to the interpretation of facts, however, that’s where hypotheses fell apart. Lucca was in front of her – no,  _Loki_  was in front of her. It was Lucca’s humanity that was trying to help her now, but he wore Loki’s face and had the god’s voice and it was all so natural to him and unnatural to her.

What did this all mean?

“Jane,” Loki’s voice cut through her thoughts and she found herself looking up to meet his intense gaze. “Are you alright?”

It was all too much. The fact of his proximity, of his nearness, of his eyes, of his fingers pressed around her waist – it was all  _wrong_. The impossibility of his presence did not make sense. Why was she the only one who could see  _Loki_? The first time, Darcy could have excused Jane because he had been hiding behind a mask. Now with nothing to cover his profile, Darcy should  _see_  that it was Loki standing beside her. The throbbing against her temple was exacerbated by the line of thought she was pursuing.  

“Jane?” Now it was Darcy who was asking, distressed and sober. “Hey, are you okay?”

_What did this mean?_

The astrophysicist opened her mouth to say something, but closed it when she couldn’t formulate the words for what she was feeling. The world around her was blurring, the strobe lights piercing through the figures of those around her, the deep bass of the music was syncopating her own heartbeat – she was falling into wonderland where nothing was making sense.

_What did this mean?_

“Jane!” Darcy’s cry was the last sound that didn’t sound like an ocean swallowing her up, and Loki shifting his hold on her was the last tangible thing she felt before she fell into the familiar throes of darkness.


End file.
